


Rage

by HappinessIsBlau



Series: Fallout 4 Daily Writing Prompt Fills [9]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Death, Gen, Gore, it involves Pickman so take that as a warning tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappinessIsBlau/pseuds/HappinessIsBlau
Summary: She figured that there was no way that they were lucky enough for that to be Brahmin meat.





	Rage

**Author's Note:**

> If you aren't cool with the Bloody Mess perk or Pickman Gallery, you probably aren't interested in reading this.

The stench of death permeated outside of the house. Sophia had found herself in the North End after the too-charming-for-his-own-good mayor of Goodneighbor had asked her to go see what was up over there. 

Well, she was here, and she could tell that something wasn’t right besides the smell decomposition that was setting off all of the alarms in her head. It was much too quiet, and the house didn’t look abandoned but it didn’t have any sort of defense set up outside. 

Dogmeat had his ears pressed back and he was growling loudly, as if he could sense an enemy nearby. He refused to enter the structure, instead laying down right in front of the door. She patted his head and promised that they’d be right back out, and his tail thumped enthusiastically. She knew he understood. 

The blood on the floor was so thick that it sloshed when they walked through it. There was meat everywhere, fresh and decomposing. She figured that there was no way that they were lucky enough for that to be Brahmin meat. 

She’d seen crime scenes before -- some in her own neighborhood, when she was an attorney, and before that when she was a cop, but she’d never seen something like this. 

In the Commonwealth, there was no real law enforcement agencies to keep people safe or to give punishment to people who would take advantage. There were plenty of people who wandered or who lived in remote areas or who had substance abuse issues or were naive enough to get tempted with the promise of caps… a serial killer’s paradise, she figured. 

The paintings (if you could call them that) seemed to be made from the blood and visceral tissue of the victims. “I’ve used some of these techniques before,” X6-88 remarked as he walked over to one of the macabre “paintings” and Sophia scoffed. He was probably trying to lighten the mood for her sake. At least, she hoped that he was. Maybe he really did paint. She hoped that it wasn’t with the same tools that this monster had used. 

They walked through the house, her finger on the trigger of her pistol. The bodies that they’d seen that were mostly intact looked… damaged. One woman, a raider if there was any indication from her stick 'n poke tattoos and the evidence of drug abuse on her arms, had attempted to chew through her handcuffed wrists to get free. 

Sophia couldn’t say that she blamed the girl. 

There was no one alive on any of the three floors, but there was a closed door that was in the kitchen. It was just slightly askew, and a quiet cough was what drew X6-88’s attention. He motioned to Sophia who tiptoed over, her stomach queasy from the feeling of liquid seeping into her boots. 

“There’s someone down there,” X6-88 mouthed, and Sophia nodded. The wounds inflicted upon all of the corpses were with blades and blunt objects, not bullets. It was a gamble, but Sophia used the nose of her pistol to open the door as quietly as she could. At the bottom of a set of stairs, the concrete floor of the basement was visible, a pool of blood reflecting a flickering light somewhere. X6-88 took the lead and soundlessly made his way down the steps. Sophia followed, putting her previous job training to work as she slunk down the stairs much less gracefully but just as soundlessly. 

The “artist” was working away at their latest victim, draining them of blood on what looked like an old autopsy table. It was probably brought from one of the local hospitals, she guessed. The killer was well enough dressed; a patched suit splattered with blood, and rubber gloves. 

If there was any sort of justice in the Commonwealth, she reasoned with herself, she’d have brought this monster in and have them face any sort of higher power. Instead, a murdering maniac's choice-by-fate was a Courser (uninterested in exacting wasteland justice) and a former cop-turned-lawyer-turned army housewife armed with a .38 semi automatic and filled to the top with rage that one human being could do this to another. She didn't want to be the judge, jury and executioner. She didn’t want to torture anyone. She didn’t want to see this murderer beg for their life. She cocked her pistol and put a bullet through the back of their head, and they slumped over onto the table and then slid onto the floor. 

“This… no one should have to see this,” Sophia started towards the stairs and X6-88 followed her. Once back in the kitchen, she pulled a grenade out of her pack, pulled the pin and threw it down the stairs, and slammed the door shut. They jogged out of the structure just in time to hear the bang of the grenade. A bit of dust flew and the windows shook, but the structure was strong to have stood 200 years worth of the elements. 

“I… need to come back here and burn this whole place down or something,” she didn’t even look at X6 as she said this, instead petting Dogmeat reassuringly as he nudged her hand with his nose. 

“Understood, ma’am. I believe you still have one of the flamers that we retrieved when we disbanded the Forged by Finch Farm.” 

She swore that her desire for vengeance made X6-88 a little more chipper than usual. Either way, she wasn’t going to report back to Hancock before the place was leveled, no matter how pissed off he’d be.

**Author's Note:**

> There’s some very overt inaccuracies here, but like, let’s pretend that there isn’t. My first thought was that the gallery would have to be much worse to make a wastelander upset because it didn’t seem all that bad by wasteland standards in-game. I mean, I wouldn’t want to walk into the place, but I thought that an actual serial killer’s home base, in a lawless place like the Commonwealth, would be wayyy worse.


End file.
